


On An Old Battered Couch, We Found A New Home

by Geisterschiff



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempted Kidnapping, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Kidnapping, Morning Cuddles, Polyamory, a bit suggestive at the end, allura is still a princess, but it's a comedy, kind of, zethrid and ezor live together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 11:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16158206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geisterschiff/pseuds/Geisterschiff
Summary: Two women in dire need of money.A princess at their fingertips they should've known better than to kidnap.A ransom that's not paid, but borrowed.Who knew that would be the start of something more than a friendship, but something equally beautiful.Zethrid and Ezor are in constant need of money and come into close proximity to Allura, the Princess of Altea. It's a chance that has to be taken, right? Well, even if they should have known better than to squabble over the ransom letter, things turn out more in their favor than they would've ever expected.





	On An Old Battered Couch, We Found A New Home

**Author's Note:**

> My second work for the Voltron Rarepair Flash Bang hosted on tumblr!  
> For this fic I have been paired up with the amazing [lionswaps](http://lionswaps.tumblr.com/), who drew an absolutely amazing art and I'm fully in tears TTwTT. You can check their art [ HERE ]().  
> I'm again very thankful for my two beautiful betas - Nigg and Peggy, who smoothed my typos and errors out <3 
> 
> Also if you wanna talk about anything Voltron related, you can always hit me up on my [tumblr ](http://geisterwrites.tumblr.com)!

“Don’t gobble it up like that! It’s our last one.” Ezor punches Zethrid into the upper arm, who isn’t really fazed by the punch, but more so by the words. She grumbles when Ezor reaches into the bowl of snack and plops next to her on the couch. Something crumples. Ezor shifts and throws the crushed newspaper on the makeshift coffee table in front of them.  
“The part time is just not cutting it. This building is going to collapse sometime soon and we barely get enough for the rent.” Loud crunching comes from Ezor’s closed mouth and Zethrid wonders how many bites it takes to pulverize the snack. “We need to do something about it, you hear me?”  
Zethrid hates being nudged, and luckily for the others no one really dares to, but since this is Ezor, the urge to throw her across the room isn’t as strong.  
“We’ll find something else.”  
“You say it like it’s soooo easy.” Zethrid watches Ezor’s colorful appendage twitch and her eyes twitch as well.  
“The mall is…” She stares at the offending hand sneaking into her snack again. What was it about the gobbling? She presses the bowl of Quintessence tighter into her chest.  
“Hm? The mall is what?”  
“The parade is happening next week.” Ezor raises a brow at her, on which Zethrid can clearly read ‘How is this suddenly about the parade?’  
“The mall is looking for people to help with the booths. Selling. Promoting. Guarding. They might pay well. Mostly at the Royal stall.” Ezor’s face crumples like the newspaper. Her brows fold into themselves and she pouts. Her lips loosen only for a split of a second as she pushes another Quintessence piece into her mouth and sucks on it like a child.  
“That won’t help us get out of here fast.” Her eyes are trained on the table, but her look is distant. Zethrid’s eyes flick there as well. Brush over the newspaper just as Ezor dives like a hawk and grabs it. She looks at Zethrid, who recoils at that and feels scrutinized to the bone.  
“What?”  
“You said Royal stall, right? I think I know someone, who might pay well.” She shoves the newspaper right into Zethrid’s face. There is a large photo on the front page. It’s crinkled and wrinkled, but it’s still clear what it shows. A bright smiling, wide waving princess of Altea.

  


Allura wakes up with hundreds of horses pounding in her head, which makes the hard book covers digging into her side barely noticeable. Just as the voices. They still alert her enough to not let the groan forming on her lips escape. Especially combined with the fact that her wrists are tied behind her back. She tugs at the bindings and shivers. It appears she is bound with simple rope. How atrocious. And old fashioned. And cheap. Magnetic cuffs are sold everywhere nowadays, why not use one of these? She needs to see who in this time would still use rope.

Her lashes flutter as her eyes crack open.  
There are two. At least two is what she can see, hunched on an old, tattered sofa. It’s patchy, and stained, and its insides are sticking out everywhere. Allura scrunches her nose.  
The rest of the room she sits in, huddled in a corner and propped against a stack of books, looks similar. Holes and torn down wallpapers decorate the walls. The table and chairs curl in shame about rubbed off paint and missing chunks of wood.  
She expects dirt when she looks at the ground at her bare feet. Expects to shrivel away in disgust.  
The wood is old and battered, but clean enough to eat from. Allura blinks and looks around again with different eyes.  
No dust. No cobwebs. No dirty laundry strewn around or dishes cluttering the sink. The mirror has a large bit broken off, but she sees herself as clearly as in the ones at their castle.  
“No, no, you can’t write it like this.”  
Allura bangs her head against the wall, her heart skyrocketing all the way to her throat. Right, her kidnappers. Her eyes shut down and stay squeezed close with effort. She counts every tick until the approach. There is no clock so she can’t be sure, but the first minute sways into the second without the sound of steps. Too engrossed in their discussion, perhaps?

“Fix this.” Allura opens her eyes and sees the taller person crowding onto the other, whose right shoulder moves in a regular pattern from left to right, again and again.  
“This is a ransom note.” Their voice is filled with the bite of repeated statement. They don’t even glance up, but still when a hand falls on their other shoulder.  
“That’s no excuse for bad grammar.”  
Allura’s mouth curls up, but she bites on the lower lip to stop any snickering noise. Is this really a point to argue over in a ransom letter?  
‘And do you have the time to ponder over that?’ A little voice inside her head scolds sharp. Of course not. Of course she should grab this opportunity as long as they are distracted. Her eyes slide close again. Concentration pulses through her veins. A tingly feeling licks at her wrists and spreads up her arms as they shift. Thinner, smaller. Until the rope falls and she can rub at sore skin.  
Now quick. At least she doesn’t have to observe the room for a weapon anymore. Crouched, she sneaks behind the sofa with a heavy book clutched to her chest.  
“There should be a comma here.”  
“Listen Zethrid, no one is going to pay-”  
There is a loud thump and Zethrid slumps on the table. Ezor stares, tense and rigid. Gasps. Her head whips around.  
Allura sees shock etched in Ezor’s eyes before the book connects with another skull. A third thump sounds when the book falls on the ground.  
Allura could go now. She could call the Altean guards and have these two arrested. Have them rot in prison for such an offending action. But a look through the apartment tugs at her to not do that. They live in such a run-down place and yet they keep it sparkling clean. Allura snickers. They were arguing over grammar in a ransom letter. Maybe they aren’t that bad. She still collects the rope and binds their hands. ‘Better safe than apologetic,’ as her father’s adviser always says.  
Intrigued by a bowl of strange snack, she settles down on the sofa. Nibbles on piece after piece until the whole bowl is almost gone. The taste adds to her decision. She is willing to offer time for an explanation, at least.

  


Damned be the stupid curtains. Ezor is sure they always shift in a way to let sunlight slam right into her face and wake her up way too early. Way before what’s considered too early on a Sunday morning, when none of them has to be anywhere.  
She groans and stretches her legs tangled with another pair. The arm around her waist wraps tighter and pulls her closer. Flowery scent that has conditioned her to smile by now fills her nose. Ezor nuzzles the soft shoulder and chuckles. Allura has shifted during the night again. Her need to curl around Ezor while she has Zethrid curled around herself is adorable.  
Just like now. Zethrid is draped over Allura like a blanket, face buried in her lush locks. Allura sleeps with her lips open enough for a finger to slip in between and spills soft snores into even softer sheets. A chirp bubbles up from deep within Ezor’s chest and she squeezes her limbs around Allura. The next snore stumbles on its way out.

It’s hard to believe the time when they weren’t like was already four years ago. They kidnapped a princess for money and got more than they bargained for. Instead of a ransom they got a loan Zethrid insisted they have to pay back. In small rates that kept them in touch. And with every paid one, Allura became more lovely.

“What are you thinking about?” Ezor’s eyes flick up to meet with the softest look. Allura’s fingers run along her cheek. Ezor hums and kisses her palm.  
“How lucky it was we decided to kidnap you.” She slides up and their chuckles melt into each other’s mouths.  
“Get back to sleep you two!” Zethrid’s arm stretches over them both, squeezing them into one heap. Laughter bounces through the sheets. They can barely think about sleep now.  
Ezor’s eyes catch on the newspaper clipping hanging above the bed as she heaves herself in Allura’s lap. It’s almost lost among all the other photos of the three of them. It’s a photo too, crinkled and wrinkled, and shows a bright smiling, wide waving princess of Altea.  
But why look at a crumpled photo if the real deal is sprawled right here? 


End file.
